


The One Where Lance Punches Keith

by papertigers



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: M/M, One-sided Klance, does it count as Klance if they're not together in this fic, i wrote this last year but never got to finishing it, probably lmao, sorry!!!!, the actual fic is longer but i?? don't think the rest is relevant anymore???
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-15
Updated: 2017-02-15
Packaged: 2018-09-24 15:26:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9768071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/papertigers/pseuds/papertigers
Summary: with a title like that does this really need a summary





	

**Author's Note:**

> as the tags said this is actually longer but i cut it bc i don't think the rest is really important??  
> i also wrote this about 2 months after s1 so before DW released Lance being Cuban, and I hc'd him as Filipino but?? i mean he could just know the language ykwis?
> 
> enjoy this filth
> 
> un-beta'd

Lance loves his friends.

He loves his friends so much that, in an “acquaintance” party where he meant to get absolutely black-out wrecked, Lance volunteers to be the designated driver (even though they’re all still in campus, and will be for a few days, and Shiro never really drinks to get drunk) because he loves them all so much.

And because this way he can get back at Keith for that stunt he pulled during last year’s pre-Christmas break party – where Lance, under Keith’s amused supervision, insisted it was still Halloween and decided to go trick-or-treating in the entire boy’s _and_ girl’s dorms before Facetiming the rest for an hour until Keith decided to bring him to bed. Lance has waited _months_ for this.

Just because he’s been crushing on the guy for nearly two years now doesn’t mean Lance is gonna let him off so easy.

“How’s my buddy doing?” Lance almost sings as he sits beside Keith on the couch, grinning and looking for the world like a cat eyeing a piece of dangling string.

Keith on five shots of tequila is a Smiling Keith, one who is more prone to bright expressions and easy, bubbling laughter. Lance has seen him like this enough times already, but it does not stop the quickening race of his heart.

“ _Lance!_ ” the other boy calls, the happiest smile ever gracing his features, “Did- did’ya get the, the uh,”

Alcohol-induced Keith was also can’t-find-his-way-out-of-a-Dr.-Seuss-book Keith. Lance bites his lips and presses a cup of water into his friend’s hands, and is physically holding back laughter at how Keith stares at it like Lance had just given him evidence that aliens did indeed exist.

It stops being funny when Keith moves that expression to Lance, who tries his best to not choke on his heart suddenly leaping to his throat (and gag on it, because this wasn’t one of his sister’s sappy chick flicks).

“Thank you,” Keith whispers before practically inhaling the water. It was as if the guy spent a year in the desert and had been fighting dehydration.

When Lance notices that the other boy was beginning to tip over in his seat, he shakes out of his stupor to catch him into a proper sitting position before Keith falls into the bowl of chips (covered in what looks to be whipped cream?) on a guy’s lap. Lance expected to get an earful if Keith found stains on his favorite black shirt (which Lance doesn’t understand – who manages to pick out a favorite amongst at least five exact copies of the same plain black tee?).

What he doesn’t expect is for Keith to suddenly go limp and lean into the momentum. The guy works out on a daily basis, and despite his thin frame, is pretty heavy, and the couch they’re on is one of the L-shaped ones, the side of which they’re on has no back or arm rests. Lance finds himself flailing and fumbling to regain balance, with Keith honest to god _giggling_ in his arms.

“ _Christo_ ,” Lance grunts when he saves them from falling into an even bigger mess. Warmth settles on his face when he feels Keith rubbing into his collarbone, murmuring under his breath. “ _Puta ka_. Five shots don’t get you like this.”

Keith giggles again (and fuck Lance sideways if that didn’t sound like the cutest thing ever), peeking from underneath his mussed up bangs. The sight is definitely something Lance will be revisiting. “Had a few more.”

And that sparks Lance’s interest. “ _Really_?” Keith nods and darts his eyes to the side, and Lance follows to see that, yes, the bottle he’d drunk from was absolutely empty.

Lance sends a quick prayer in thanks.

“Hunk an’- an’ Shay, we had a toast an’ some shit. Was _fun_.” Lance is told, and Keith is still peeking at him in the same way Lance does when he’s about to do something idiotic. Anticipation runs high in him; just a little more, Lance isn’t sure how drunk Keith is right now but this sudden revelation is absolutely part of Lance’s plan.

Lance sucks in a breath. He waits for Keith to say it, to say the one thing that made every time they drank the best time ever, waits for Keith to say that he was really, really-

“’m _re-ee-ally_ happy right now.”

And Lance is grabbing Keith by the shoulders, absolutely _vibrating_ with excitement now, and ignores the wet spot on his chest from when Keith spilled the water on them probably when they fell. That doesn’t matter right now, _absolutely nothing_ matters right now because Keith is _drunk_ and he is _happy_.

Not that it would take a lot of effort, but Lance still has to be careful about this. “Keith, my buddy, my man, my pal.” His cheeks begin to strain from the wide grin he’s sporting – one that Keith mirrors although albeit lopsidedly, “I am very, very happy that you are happy.”

Keith nods, head bobbing lackadaisically, “I’m happy to have you happy, sir.” He says and, okay, Lance gauges how far along Keith is because he’s already reached Bouncing Keith and Keith-With-A-Sir. The latter State of Keith being close to the State that Lance needed him to be in.

Abso _lutely perfect_.

“Yes! And you like being happy, yeah?” Another nod, probably, since Keith’s head is still bouncing, “But, you know what would be the absolute best idea to be the happiest you can be?”

“What?” The other boy whispers, almost excited, treating their exchange as a sort of secret spy operative meeting.

And, _finally_ , the moment Lance has been planning for.

“If you danced.”

As if on cue, because god probably loved him at that moment, the bass drops and rises even louder. The crowd cheers and Keith perks up at that, screaming a ‘Fuck _yeah_!’ before he’s stumbling to his feet and – Lance screeches – climbs onto the coffee table.

He’s gotten a good minute in the video (and _god thank you_ he does, because Keith dancing is rare enough as it is and his hips are _sin_ ) before his sister makes her presence known by grabbing his cheeks and jerking his head around to face her.

“Lance! We’ve been looking for you, where-“ Allura stops, eyes going wide as her eyes trail from him, to Lance’s phone, and then finally to where that phone was pointing at. Child-like excitement and happiness and she grabs Lance’s face in both hands. “Holy crap, I love you!? You managed to get _Dancing Keith_?”

Allura doesn’t let up her hold and Lance can barely nod through it. “Save the worship for later. He looks awfully lonely up there.” She screeches an ‘ _I love you!_ ’ at his face, jumping and kissing his cheek before running to join their friend on the table, who has gotten some attention – _and partners_ – already.

Lance is loving this.

And he especially starts loving this when someone in the circle screams “ _Dance off!_ ” and the entire room breaks into chaos.

He’d only managed to get about twenty minutes of footage before his phone declares full storage, and that’s when Shiro catches them. The red flush across his face is all the answer Lance needs when he wonders why it had taken him this long to bust them.

“I’m too buzzed to lecture you right now,” Shiro slurs only the tiniest bit and leads the rest of their group out the door, having to keep Keith in a firm hold as the boy is given the walk of victory from every student they pass. They have to hold themselves back from laughing at the sight. “But after we get something greasy in us no earlier than two tomorrow, you are in Big Trouble, Lance.”

Shiro’s lectures are The Worst™, but Lance thinks it was worth it, anyway.

“Why do you want grease? You aren’t my motorcycle,” Keith asks, his tone very confused and bordering on distressed and he turns to Pidge, “Hey, hey- why is- why is Shiro talking about grease?”

Pidge pats his arm reassuringly, “He’s talking about the country, Keith.” They say and bites back a snicker at the other boy’s alarmed ‘What?’. “He’s going to Greece.”

“What? No, he can’t. _Don’t go to Greece, Shiro!_ ” Keith shrieks, holding onto Pidge’s arm tightly as their bespectacled friend leans on him, doubling over in laughter.

Allura steps in between them, wiping tears away and placing a calm hand on Keith’s arm, “He’s not going anywhere but to bed, like you should be, Keith.” Lance still believes the decorative ring on her finger is hiding a secret syringe in it that she uses to calm people down when they get like this, as evidenced by Keith immediately going lax and humming in approval.

“I’ll take you back to your dorm, bud,” Hunk offers and Allura and Pidge are about to hand him over to the other when Shiro stops them – stops Allura and Pidge, that is. Keith immediately wraps his arms around Hunk’s torso, and looks to be trying to do the same with his legs.

“No. This is Lance’s fault. He said he was going to be responsible for us, so he’s going to be.” Lance had expected this when he had made his Plan, but it still makes his shoulders slump.

“ _Boo_. I hate Octopus Keith.” He doesn’t, he loves _all_ of Keith (he’s accepted this fact a long time ago, but it’s still an awkward thing to admit), but bringing that home was going to be a nightmare.

And they all knew it. “Too bad. Maybe next time you’d think twice before pulling something like this.” Lance calls bullshit on Shiro’s reprimanding – the older boy was the one who had taught them all of the States of Keith and how to get to them. Lance _knows_ Shiro was enjoying this.

But he was also probably enjoying dumping Keith Care on Lance. “You’re lucky I’m in a good mood. And that it’s really only me, Allura, and Keith who are still stuck to living on campus.”

“You would have been my roommate, but I just like Hunk more.” Pidge interjects, sticking out their tongue in retaliation to Lance doing the same. Lance still didn’t understand why they chose to live across the campus instead of just in it, but he guessed it was because the dorm just didn’t accommodate Pidge’s robot business. And it was always a bonus to have a place to crash outside the campus.

Keith locks his bright eyes on Lance when he approaches, not at all helping as both he and Hunk try to pry his limbs off of the other (Lance both appreciates and despises that strength, knowing those well-formed limbs will be clinging onto him next). “Ya can room w’me, Lance. Like a- like a really long sleepover.”

“I would love to do that, Keith, but I just don’t want to separate you and Daniel.” Lance cheekily replies and gets a leg unhooked, quickly followed by the other one. A quick jab on under his armpit from Shiro gets him to finally unlatch with a high pitched squeak (that just _did something_ to Lance’s kind heart) and lean on Lance’s shoulder with a childish frown, and Lance quickly drapes Keith’s arm over his shoulders.

“Daniel can go an’ fuck himself.” He mutters, and continues to do so as the group separates. Keith stumbles and trips over his own feet a couple of times, but thankfully does not fall. It helps that Allura is supporting Keith on his other side.

“Are you sure you’ll be alright?” His sister asks, pinching their drunken friend’s cheeks together and bites her bottom lip as Keith imitates a fish.

Lance waves his free hand. “I’ll be fine. A drunk Keith isn’t anything new.” It wasn’t, not with how much he and Allura managed to rope the others into the occasional drink, but Dancing Keith has only ever appeared a handful of times in their lives that it proved difficult to care for him.

But Allura trusted her brother and, after walking them to the forked path that separated the girl’s dorms from the boy’s (and taking advantage of Keith’s inebriated state), they say (scream, in Keith’s case; he wasn’t always this noisy, but they should probably add this into one of the States) their goodnights and wobble down the gravely path.

Keith gets through a sloppy third repeat of an overlap of a Gorillaz and Arctic Monkeys song (“ _What_? No, they’re the _same band_. I know what I’m doing, yes sir.”) and Lance all but barges through the door and bodily tosses the other onto the bed. Just like earlier, Keith goes absolutely limp and leans into the momentum, and Lance has to kneel on the mattress so his forehead doesn’t crack against the wall.

In an instant, Keith is curling and vocalizing his appreciation and love for his bed, face buried in the sheets. Lance snickers and snatches Keith’s phone to steal a photo, reminding himself to send it to his own phone later.

With a pat to his blabbering friend’s shoulder, Lance starts to get to his feet. “Alright, big guy, I’m gonna get you some water, and then we’re gonna tuck ya in, alright?” Just as he’s about to turn, the room suddenly spins and it takes a while for Lance to realize that, yes, he is on his elbows, bent over Keith, who has his arms around his shoulders and that, _yes_ , his legs were also wrapped around Lance’s waist.

Lance’s brain short circuits for a bit because, _wow_ , alright, this is really close to what he’s fantasized about before and his thoughts are wandering to Unhelpful Places.

“ _Keith_ ,” he croaks, tense and very, very still, as if he the tiniest movement would set him in a Predator scene, “Keith, my guy, I can’t exactly get you water like this. You feel me?”

“Lance.”

The way his voice rolls off Keith’s tongue – gravely and deep, breathy like a sigh and laced with something intimate and primal and _fuck fuck fuck_ – sends sparks down Lance’s spine. He swallows, shifts so he could reach a shaky hand to Keith’s arms.

His hold is tight and it is _wrecking_ Lance right now. “Yea- _ah_!?” Lance yelps in surprise when he feels lips ghost against his neck, up his jaw, press against his earlobe. His breathing quickens.

“Ke-Keith, uh, what are. Uhm. You gotta let me get you some water.” Please just be another drunken moment, a slip, nothing more than the result of having Octopus Keith wrapped all too close to him; please just pass out – hell, Lance prays it was the calm before Keith inevitably pukes on him. _Anything but this; this is too cruel_.

Because Keith is straight, because Keith doesn’t care about dating, because Keith isn’t interested in _him_. _Please don’t do this to me_.

Then Keith is shifting, head dropping on the mattress, and his hands are framing Lance’s face. _He’s drunk, this State has absolutely no control from his mouth to his actions_. He sees Keith’s gaze drop to his lips, sees him lick his own, and then their gazes are locked. Lance can’t handle the look he’s given.

He can feel the panic bubbling in the pits of his stomach, rising upwards to claw at his throat, warning sirens blaring as his internal systems goes on red-alert. Everything points to _run_ , but Lance’s limbs aren’t responding, stock-still and frozen as Keith-

As Keith slowly closes his eyes and leans in closer.

_He’s drunk._

_He doesn’t know what he’s doing._

_He’s going to regret this._

Lance loves his friends.

And he – _loves_? – Keith.

And because he loves his friends, and because he sort of, probably loves Keith as well, Lance does what is best for the both of them right now.

He punches Keith in the face.

Lance all but _flies_ off the bed and lands on his back, scrambling on all fours until he’s pressed against the far wall; heart racing, head whirling, knuckles throbbing.

It takes a couple of deep, ragged breaths for what just happened to sink in and it makes his panic come back ten-fold.

“ _Yawa_ ,” he breathes and hurries back to the bed, checking Keith over, “Holy _shit_. Keith? Buddy, pal, Keith, my friend, I’m sorry I- _gago_ , Keith?” Lance had expected to see an enraged, suddenly-sober-Keith cradling his face; instead, Lance finds that he is Out Cold.

What. The _fuck_.

Did he just punch Keith into a _state of unconsciousness_? All for _trying to kiss him_!?

 _Unbelievable_.

Lance can’t believe he did this. He was supposed to be punching Keith with his mouth. Preferably on the other’s mouth. Gently. All sensual and stuff.

A groan escapes him and Lance drops his head on the bed.

 _He’s never going to date me now_.

But for now, Lance has to make sure Keith at least gets some ice on that, even if he has to tie the pack to his head (it’s probably not the most sensible thing to do, but sense has probably been thrown out the window at this point, anyway, so he does just that). With a last shaky check-up, Lance drapes a blanket over Keith’s torso and hightails it out of there, praying Keith won’t remember a thing tomorrow.

Or that he hadn’t gotten a concussion.

 _God_ what has Lance done?

**Author's Note:**

> i, too, wish to be drunk


End file.
